


The heart is an olfactory organ

by greedy_dancer



Series: Tumblr ficlets [5]
Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, Notfic, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:57:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1589141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greedy_dancer/pseuds/greedy_dancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Loosely) inspired by the pics of Harry with his face in Ben's neck in Brazil.
</p><p><i> Long strands of his own hair trailed across Nick’s skin, making him shiver, and Harry’d run the tip of his nose down the center of Nick’s chest until he reached the sticky place where the smell was strongest – “Are you actually </i>sniffing<i> me?”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The heart is an olfactory organ

I love reading all the different takes [those Harry & Ben pics](http://fromcainwithlove.tumblr.com/post/85091480213/may-7th-brazil) with Harry being a clever little minx and playing it up for the paps, but I also want a slightly different take on it, like.

Look at the way his hands are all over Ben and Ben’s clutching Harry’s hand and turning his head away and laughing it off. Maybe Harry’s shared a joint with Zayn before he came down, or he’s been sneaking sips of wine in the heat all afternoon, or he’s just drunk on sunshine and good gigs and time off and lulled into a false sense of security by spending the afternoon poolside with mates like he’s back in Holmes Chapel. Either way, he gets a bit careless, and nostalgic, and _horny_ , and all of a sudden all he wants is to put his hands on a man’s body. He just wants to feel a hard chest under his hands and put his face in a man’s neck, letting that musky sweaty smell fill his nose, rubbing his cheek against stubble for a little while.

Once he’s had the thought, he's taken by surprise by how much he actually wants it. It’s tour, and he’s _Harry Styles;_ he’s not been starved for sex or company or anything. But even then, it’s been _weeks_ since he got to really _touch._ Time to do things properly, to take his time with someone. Weeks since- well, since Nick, if he’s being honest; since he last had Nick in bed next to him, well-shagged and boneless.

In a rather rare occurrence, Nick was actually still and quiet and letting Harry do what he wanted as he scrolled lazily through his Twitter feed.

Nick’s not really one for cuddles and tenderness after sex, and it used to confuse and worry Harry, that Nick would roll off the bed as soon as they’d both caught their breaths. He’s better at reading people now, well-versed in Nick Grimshaw, and he sees it as what it is: not dismissal, or regret, or impatience; rather, it’s Nick coming as close as he does to being truly flustered, like maybe sex made him give away more than he planned to and he needs to put his guard back up as soon as possible. Harry’s not sure if Nick always gets like that, but he likes to think it’s only with them; that it mirrors his own jitters, the anxious twitch in his gut the first time he sees Nick again after a while, the flutter that makes him feel like after all these years he’s still just a kid trying to look cooler than he is to impress Nick Grimshaw.

Harry’s never brought it up – that would constitute a _conversation_ , and it’s an unspoken rule that they don’t do _conversations_. They don’t do sincere and earnest and sentimental. They don’t have time for that. (Now. Harry thinks – hopes – there’s an unspoken “now” tacked at the end of the unspoken rule.)

Which is why it was so special, that time, Nick as still and quiet as Harry’d ever seen him, not making jokes, not reaching for the duvet to cover himself, just letting Harry run his hands all over him. He walked his fingers along Nick’s arm, scratching a bit at Nick’s hip and gently pinching the soft flesh there until Nick tutted and swatted his hand away; then Harry’d gone back up on all fours, feeling the start of an ache in his arms and back and thighs, straddling Nick, looking from above as Nick frowned at his phone, before lowering his face and nosing down Nick’s torso, damp chest hair tickling his cheek. Long strands of his own hair trailed across Nick’s skin, making him shiver, and Harry’d run the tip of his nose down the center of Nick’s chest until he reached the sticky place where the smell was strongest – “Are you actually _sniffing_ me?” He puts his lips there, feeling how soft Nick’s skin was, how warm, imagining he could feel it pulse against his mouth to the rhythm of Nick’s heart. He darted his tongue out to taste Nick’s belly button, making Nick’s abs jump, drawing Nick’s eyes away from his phone at last to give Harry a look that was exasperated and fond in equal measures. 

“What _are_ you doing, Styles?” Nick huffed, but Harry shushed him, watching Nick’s muscles twitch again with the puff of his breath.

“Let me,” Harry mumbled into the hollow of Nick’s hip, and when Nick didn’t move, he shuffled further down the bed, stretching his arms and back on the way. His chin bumped into Nick’s soft cock and he gave it a nuzzle, too, breathing in that latex, sweat and come smell. He didn’t stop, moving further down, intent of continuing his journey, past the wrinkled skin of Nick’s balls and the baby-soft patch of his inner thighs, running his hand along the top of Nick’s leg down to one knobby knee, along his shin, biting Nick’s ankle gently, until he was sitting back on his heels, one hand resting on top of the arch of Nick’s foot, taking in the way it fit in the palm of his hand, the contrast of their skin, how soft Nick’s skin was.

Nick was watching him when Harry looked back up, watching with open intensity, and they looked at each other silently for a few seconds before Harry had to rush back up and kiss him, flopping on top of Nick and making him gasp out a breath. They kissed a little, Harry reveling in the softness of Nick’s lips against his own, the warm glide of Nick’s tongue along the seam of Harry’s lips, and then Harry put his face back in the dip of Nick’s neck and just breathed for a while, Nick still silent and unmoving except for his arms closing around Harry’s chest and his ribcage pressing against Harry’s as they breathed.

So that’s what on Harry’s mind, that afternoon in Brazil, as he sneaks up on Ben and just faceplants straight into his neck, palming at his torso – not confused about who Ben is, not looking for anything more, just wanting to, um, he’s not really sure what he wants, even, just. Here he is, in sunny Brazil, hanging out at the pool of a super fancy hotel, hours before playing a huge stadium show thousands of miles away from home, and he was just thinking of lying in bed with Nick, smelling his neck. But by the time Ben wriggles out of his grip, awkwardly trying to keep his glass out of the way and capture Harry’s wrist with his other hand, “What are you up to now? Paps all over the place, mate!” Harry’s head has cleared, his smile’s turned into a giddy laugh and he lets go, tells Ben, “S’alright, you don’t smell right anyway.”

And he thinks when he’s back in the UK next month? He and Nick are going to have that conversation.

**Author's Note:**

> [The heart really does contain smell receptors.](http://www.livescience.com/28498-can-the-heart-smell.html) The more you know!
> 
> [Originally posted on Tumblr](http://greedydancer.tumblr.com/post/85162854672/yeah-i-took-the-ben-harry-pics-and-wrote-nick-harry).


End file.
